Summer Temptation
by shyath
Summary: Femslash. Cameron/Sarah. Sarah had a very interesting dream about Cameron.


**Disclaimer: **I do not own Terminator: Sarah Connor Chronicles. Seriously.

**A/N:** Gee, how long has it been since my last post? I am so sorry, but RL has been such a b*tch. However, I have come bearing this as a peace offering. This is my first attempt at true smut (I think), so do feel free to leave (constructive) suggestions and feedbacks – liked it? disliked it? what would you like to see in the following chapters? what would you _not_ like to see? It _has_ been sometime and Cameron/Sarah might be a little odd here, I do apologise for that beforehand. But most of all, I hope you enjoy this. Cheers. And don't forget to comment.

* * *

Her eyes fluttered shut as the distance between the two of them disappeared. The night seemed both too loud and too quiet as she reached up trembling fingers to trace beautiful cheekbones and full lips. She could hear the way her breath catch in her throat, could feel it reverberate through her body as the first gasp tumbled through parted lips, could detect the falter in each subsequent gulp of air. Each moment seemed to drag, to hang frozen in time (an eternity stretching between a few seconds before and now, between now and a few seconds to come) and every little pause seemed to desperately attempt to spell out _something_, to plead for a conclusion that, she secretly hoped, would never end.

Strong, yet gentle hands began to knead the tense set of her shoulders, moving ever so slowly down to the middle of her back with a sure confidence that was both presumptuous and thrilling. Hands slipped beneath her thin tank top, goose pimples rising in the wake of lazily scratching fingernails and a tiny squeak left her now pursed lips as those inquisitive fingertips brushed against her ribs, her flat abdomen, the cups of her bra before retreating. She mewled in protest, blushing lightly in embarrassment and sighing in approval when the fingers returned to stroke and caress with a newfound sense of a purpose – closer and closer to the clasp of her bra (and her heart was pounding so hard like it was about to pop out, her breath was coming out in short, quick bursts like she had just run a marathon).

There was a pause in the movement and she looked up to find a sincere question in breathtakingly open eyes. Her heart thudded with less urgency and more depth in response, and she nodded weakly by way of permission. The sound of the clasp being released was clearly audible in the silence marred only by the increased pace of their mingled breathing. Heat spread from where fingers pressed into the bare of her back, suffusing her entire being – a line had been crossed, a threshold between happenings and possibilities had been passed. She felt like sinking and drowning and falling (_in_) and she suddenly felt afraid. "W-we shouldn't," she whispered weakly, belatedly, her head starting to spin from just the sensation of their still clad bodies meshed together, from the all too tangible reminder of proximity in the way long fingers pressed with more force against her skin (as if marking, possessing).

"Too late now," came the flat response, accompanied a ghost of a smirk as hands flattened against her skin, running down to the swell of her bottom and squeezing teasingly.

She gasped softly and made to protest again. Before she could, however, she felt herself suddenly lifted up, her back hitting the wall with a soft thump and she hissed sharply when a solid thigh insinuated itself between both of her own. "D-don't," she said just as half-heartedly, her hips already beginning to undulate despite herself. She clutched tightly at unyielding shoulders with enough force to draw blood (except she knew it would not work with _her_). "Fuck," she swore as she began to grind back with more enthusiasm.

There was a definite smirk across full lips now and a hand moved around to the front of her jeans, brushing over her crotch and eliciting a harsh inhale.

"W-what -"

Fingers traced the waistband of her jeans, caressing skin lightly before dipping into the space between fabric and skin to tug lightly.

"D-don't you dare!"

There was another tug and the jeans ripped apart loudly along the seams. "Oops. Sorry," she said in that monotone of hers, not at all sounding apologetic as she pushed what remained of the jeans down to pool around her knees.

"That was my favourite," she growled huskily.

"Sorry," she repeated, trailing a finger down to the growing wet spot on her simple panties.

"Damn it, you better be worth it and more," she threatened, her knees nearly buckling as fingers found the protruding outline of her clit.

A hand pushed inside her panties, enveloping a warm, wet pussy and kneading very slowly. "I am worth it," she assured as a finger, and then another, began making its way past into a smoulderingly delicious heat. Her lips were now so close to another pair as, if not more, wantonly in need as her own and her eyes observed hungrily the wonderful mixture of fury and lust and _something_ she could not identify (something soft and warm and it brought to mind a sensation of unconditional trust – why?). "And more."

"P-prove it," she goaded, nostrils flaring as he thighs began to tremble in preparation for the fall, for the rise, for the inevitable explosion.

"Is that a challenge?" she asked as she peppered the other's neck with kisses and licks, nibbles and nips, her fingers curling and uncurling inside as the heel of her palm ground down against a pulsing, throbbing clit. "How am I doing so far?"

"Oh god, d-don't stop," she begged, head thrown back and back arching off of the wall.

"Your wish is my command," she teased.

"S-shut up. J-just shut up and f-fuck me!"

"Like this?"

"Y-yes. J-just l-like that … Oh god -"

Another finger was added.

"Oh f-fuck, g-god, I n-need to c-come -"

"Say my name."

"P-please, Cameron …"

* * *

"_P-please, Cameron …"_

Sarah woke up with a moan stuck in her throat, her body drenched in sweat and a hand moving restlessly inside her panties. Her skin tingled all over and her breathing was erratic. The sheets must had been tossed off of her overheated body sometime in the night and her hand was still moving slowly inside of her as she tried to get her bearings.

"Shit," Sarah whispered when she finally realised who it was she had just dreamed about (was still masturbating about). Sarah pulled her hand out of her panties like it was burned, ignoring the slickness on her fingers and the twitch of her clit as it begged for attention. "Shit," she repeated, burying her face in her pillow. The scent of musk was thick in the air and the unreleased tension was setting throughout her body. In addition, the soft footfall just outside her bedroom prompted her of Cameron's most untimely presence. "Fuck," she cursed, hitting the pillow. "This _cannot_ be happening."

_Cameron wasn't even like Cameron in the dream_, she consoled herself. Sarah's cheeks burned furiously as her mind eagerly supplied her with images of a naked, possessive Cameron having her way with her. Her clit throbbed again and Sarah had to consciously resist the urge to give in to the temptation. _It was _not_ Cameron_, she thought determinedly. _It was my dream lover_. _He – or, well, she now – just happened to have Cameron's physique, voice and expressions_. "Fuck," Sarah whimpered, finally slipping her hand inside her panties once more, trying to ignore the sudden absence of movement outside her bedroom door (was Cameron listening? watching?). Sarah came quickly, silently but so violently. "Fuck," she said once more before succumbing to a fitful sleep.


End file.
